


Summer Lovin'

by ariadne83, somehowunbroken



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: 2016-2017 NHL Season, Aromantic, Coming Out, Friendship, Gen, M/M, Misunderstandings, Mpreg, POV Outsider
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-05
Updated: 2018-03-04
Packaged: 2018-05-18 07:11:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5904271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ariadne83/pseuds/ariadne83, https://archiveofourown.org/users/somehowunbroken/pseuds/somehowunbroken
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack gets hives from complicated emotions, so he has no idea why he's in the middle of this mess.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> a slightly abridged version of a typical wednesday night between the two of us:
> 
> ki: [have a charlie coyle.](https://40.media.tumblr.com/2c20e613208eefd14c9b42bf3ee22b4c/tumblr_o1zhnuVKWY1slz6suo1_1280.png)  
> ari: fuuuuuuuuuck  
> imagine THAT as noah's babydaddy  
> ki: mhmmmmmmm  
> ari: secretly pregnant charlie coyle who feels bad about it because noah is *so young*  
> so he debates whether or not to tell him, and noah gets So Sad because he doesn't know if charlie's breaking up with him or just busy with hockey  
> ki: ahhh noah  
> ari: cranky jack eichel to the rescue
> 
> that's it. that's the story.

Jack's phone rings ten minutes after he gets to the hotel in Minnesota. He debates just ignoring it; if it's a teammate, he'll see them soon anyway, and if it's not, then it's someone he doesn't have time to talk to right now. Because he's actually incapable of not at least checking, though, he glances at the screen.

Hanny's stupid smiling face beams up at him.

" _Fuck_." Jack answers the phone, because he's also incapable of saying no to that face. He should probably change the picture to something he's less likely to do anything for. Bears, maybe.

"Hey, Eichs," Hanny says. Jack flops down across his bed, because this is Sad Hanny calling. There's been a lot of Sad Hanny lately.

"What did the asshole do now?" Jack asks. "Or what did he _not_ do?"

Hanny sighs. Jack had honestly been kind of an avid fan of the Hanny-and-Coyle show at the start, but now he just wants to punch Coyle in the face. He's the reason for all the Sad Hanny, and the fact that he hasn't said a word to Hanny since leaving for training camp means that Jack is firmly on Hanny's side. Not that he wasn't already, but now he extra is.

"I need to ask you a favor," Hanny says.

"Anything. You know it, Hanny." If Jack could force Noah to feel better he would.

"Just," Hanny says, sighing. "I know you're playing the Wild tonight. He's not playing, but if you see him around..." He sighs _again_ , and honestly, Jack's gonna punch Coyle. He just is. "Just tell me if he looks okay? If he looks good. That's all."

"If he looks perfectly fine, I'm going to beat the shit out of him," Jack says. "Fair warning. If I find him and he's, like, smiling and laughing and _happy_ , I'm going to cause him some bodily harm."

Hanny laughs. It's a weak fucking laugh, but it's not another sigh. Jack fistpumps. "Don't hurt yourself, now."

"As _if_ ," Jack says, making his tone as dramatic as he knows how. It earns him another weak-ass laugh. Jack's the best friend ever.

"Just let me know?" Hanny asks. "You don't have to talk to him. I just… need to know."

"He's not out with a concussion," Jack says. "If I see him-"

"Don't," Noah pleads. "Don't hurt him."

"The things I do for you," Jack says, groaning. "Fine. I won't hurt him."

"Don't punch him," Noah specifies. "And I'd rather you didn't yell at him. Whatever's going on with him, I don't want to make it worse."

"I'm not promising you that," Jack says flatly. "I'll find your boy, I'll give you a heads up. And I won't punch him. Take it or leave it."

Noah sighs. "You should go get ready. Call me after your game."

"Go do something fun," Jack says sternly. "Watch some TV. Jerk off. I can hear you pouting from here."

"Of course I'm pouting. You get to see him and I don't."

"I hate you," Jack replies. "I hate that I'm invested in your _Gossip Girl_ life."

"I hate that because of your terrible taste in television I get that reference," Hanny replies. "Thanks, Eichs."

"I will make you happy if it kills me," Jack says, and then he ends the call.

Or if it kills Coyle, Jack thinks to himself as he heads to the rink. He could work with that.

Jack wastes twenty minutes of precious time when he could be getting his head in the game head-hunting Charlie Coyle instead. By the time he corners him, he's feeling extra vicious.

"Coyle!" he shouts, throwing his arm over Coyle's shoulders. "Buddy. Long time, no see. Let's catch up." He doesn't exactly bodily haul Coyle into a training room, but it's a near thing.

Jack locks the door once they get inside and shoves Coyle up against it. "Listen, asshole, if you want to dump Noah you're going to have to man up and say the words, because he's not the type who just gives up. And if that's not what you're gearing up for, then wow, do you and I need to talk. Because you're treating him like shit, and he is the saddest dude."

Coyle gets glassy-eyed. "He wants to break up?"

" _No_ , are you even listening, what the fuck?"

Coyle gets out his phone and dials; it's really awkward keeping him pressed against the door, so Jack lets go and takes a step back. He keeps a scowl firmly in place, though. "Noah, fuck, I'm sorry I didn't call sooner, I just - if you don't want to do this anymore I understand." Coyle takes a big, gulping breath and then adds, "I'm pregnant. And it's totally fine, I can do this on my own, but that's why I didn't call."

Jack tries to lean on the wall for support, because holy _shit_ , but he almost falls on his ass. Jesus _fuck_. Jack gets hives from feelings that are more complicated than family and friends and team. He’d rather be _anywhere else_ right now. But he came here for Hanny, so he’s not leaving until this whole mess makes sense. 

He’s really not expecting Coyle to give him the phone, what the hell? "Uh, sooooooo," Jack says, wincing. He really hopes Hanny doesn’t murder him; Jack wants to live long enough to take the Sabres to the playoffs, and he’s only a year and a half into that five-year plan. God knows they’ll need the time.

"What the _fuck_ , Jack?" Hanny yells. "I told you to leave him alone!"

“I never told him you wanted to dump him," Jack protests. "I said that if he wanted to dump you, he should nut up and say it. And I only promised not to punch him."

"You fucking-" and then Hanny cuts himself off abruptly. "Wait, did he say pregnant?"

Jack tilts the phone away from his face and looks at Coyle. "You're pregnant?"

"I... yeah."

"It's Hanny's?"

"Yeah."

Jack puts the phone back to his mouth. "Congrats, dude."

"Put him back on the phone," Hanny demands, "and don't kidnap my boyfriend _ever again_.”

"You were sad; it was awful," Jack protests. "Drastic measures had to be taken."

Hanny sighs, but it's an annoyed sigh, not a sad one. "Put him on the phone, Jack, or I'm telling Connor you have a poster of him over your bed."

"Liar!"

" _Connor_ doesn't know that. Charlie. Now."

Jack scowls, even though Hanny can’t see him, and hands the phone back.

"Noah, I'm so sorry," Coyle says. "I didn't mean for this to happen, especially not in your second year-"

Jack still wants to leave, but this is probably at least a little his fault, so maybe he should... not leave Coyle alone right now? He's not really sure what the protocol is here. Whatever Hanny's saying, Coyle's getting suspiciously glassy-eyed again. 

Oh fuck, what if he starts crying? Jack's not built for crying. On the other hand, if he leaves Hanny's pregnant boyfriend _crying_ in the training room _all alone_ Hanny's going to do a lot worse than fueling rumors about Jack's non-existent crush on McDavid. He might hire a plane to write "Eichel  <3 McDavid" in the sky the next time the Oilers play the Sabres. Jack would love to, like, phone a friend here but the only person he knows on this godforsaken team is crying in front of him. Fuck Minnesota, god above.

"Not ‘til March," Coyle finally says in a wobbly voice. "I found out at training camp and they said-" He stops short and laughs at whatever Hanny said. "Yeah. Right at the start of summer. I thought I'd just had one too many hot dogs, y'know?"

He pauses, listening to whatever Hanny's saying. Jack’s about to make a break for it when Coyle starts _sniffling_ and rubbing at the corner of his eye. "I didn't know I could," he says eventually. "I'm - God, Noah, I'm so sorry."

It's the third time he's said it in the last ten minutes. Jack wants to roll his eyes at the drama.

"I know it's not fair to you," Coyle goes on. "I swear, if you don't want to do this I can get by on my own." Then he winces and holds the phone away from his ear, and Jack can hear Hanny yelling.

"Maybe don't say that again," Jack advises.

Coyle nods seriously, like Jack just gave him advice on investment banking. He puts the phone back to his ear. “Noah - no, it’s okay; I shouldn’t have assumed…" The yelling goes away, and Coyle listens for a minute. "No, I'm not showing yet,” he says eventually. “Well, I mean. I've put on weight? And I can tell, but people who don't know me wouldn't know. Eichs didn't know." And then he goes a little red. "Uh, well, yeah. You'd - you'd know."

Fuck it, if these two are going to have phone sex Jack needs to be elsewhere _right now_.

"I missed you too," Coyle says softly. "I just needed to think."

Jack coughs really obnoxiously. “So, Coyle, congratulations. Don't fuck this up; I'm going now."

Coyle startles and almost drops his phone.

Jack just waves and leaves. His work here is done. Although, he thinks with a little bit of a wince, he should probably find Coyle after the game and apologise for shoving him around. Jack doesn't want to be the dick friend who roughed up the pregnant dude. Until then, though, Jack has shit to do that doesn't involve being better at Hanny and Coyle's relationship than Hanny and Coyle.

Hell, maybe once Jack's done with the NHL he should be a life coach or something. It's always a good idea to have a backup plan.


	2. Happened So Fast

Jack doesn't think he's an asshole. Well, he doesn't think he's being more of an asshole than usual. Which is why it's confusing when Noah hangs up on him and doesn't talk to him for, like, forever. Not even at Christmas, when Jack posts an objectively awesome Snap of his ugly sweater collection. He's made up his mind to put Noah in a headlock the next time he shows his face, and teach the kid to respect his elders. The NTDP boys made a pact to stick together; Noah can't let the team down just because he's obsessed with playing Romeo to Coyle's knocked up Juliet.

All of which is to say, when Noah finally resurfaces after All Star Weekend, Jack feels justified in answering his call with, "Hey fuckface."

"Love you too, bitch," Noah replies. "You have to help me."

Jack rolls his eyes up to the ceiling. "What did you do now?"

"I may have slightly forgotten to tell my mom I have a boyfriend," Noah blurts out. 

"You what." Jack says dryly, because he remembers the weekend Noah had his big coming out moment. His mom almost threw a party to show how proud she was of her Oldest Boy for setting a good example.

"She's coming to visit for my birthday," Noah continues. "And Charlie's here."

Jack pinches the bridge of his nose, and checks his calendar. "She'll be there in three days."

"Yeah."

"And you're living with your pregnant boyfriend who she doesn't know you're dating."

Noah sighs loudly. "It just kind of happened. I asked him to come for Christmas and then he like. Didn't want to leave? So we got our own place."

"Wow," Jack replies. "Just, wow.”

"You're supposed to be helping!"

"You're supposed to think further ahead than next week," Jack replies. This whole thing is turning the world upside down: Noah is supposed to be the mom friend, Dylan and Zach are the wine aunts, Jack is the mean uncle, and Auston is the dad who believes in you no matter what.

"Eichs," Noah whines, "be nice or I'm calling Auston."

Jack flinches. He is NOT afraid of Auston Matthews. "Okay, tell me your plan and then we'll come up with a better one."

Noah outlines some half-baked idea about a surprise reveal, with blue "It's a boy!" balloons. Jack wishes he could reach through the phone and punch him in the arm.  
"You can't throw a surprise baby shower for yourself, with only your mom there. Larks will never forgive you."

"Fair point," Noah concedes.

"Also you should probably tell your mom you knocked someone up before she's within yelling distance of your kid," Jack adds. "Don't be like Stromer."

He makes a list of other things Noah shouldn't do - don't be like Marner, either, he's gross - and Noah actually listens. It's a miracle.

"You need to have a cuter kid than theirs," Jack demands. "Our country depends on you."

Noah laughs. "I'll try, but Charlie's handling that part."

"Tell me he's at least got his shit together more than you do." Jack feels bad about almost punching Charlie last year, but not so bad that he's switching loyalties.

"He told his family at Christmas," Noah says. "They asked why he wasn't coming to Boston. I think his nana cried."

Jack refuses to have a feeling, now or later. "Okay, so at least you've had some practice at the parents thing."

"Eiiiiiichs," Noah whines again. "Are you sure I can't just, like, text my mom?"

"If that was a good idea, would you be talking to me right now?" Jack counters.

"Okay, genius, what would you do?" Noah asks.

Jack snorts. "I wouldn't have a secret boyfriend in the first place. And I'd probably get my mom a gift basket. She's going to need wine."

Noah hums. "If I tell her before I give her the basket, can I put a grandma card in it? With like, an ultrasound?"

"Ugh, you're turning into Marner. That's fucking adorable."

"We have one where he's sucking his thumb," Noah says gleefully.

"Okay, yes, you're allowed to weaponize cuteness to win over your mom," Jack declares. "Also, you should send that to Auston and make him vomit rainbows."

Noah sketches out an acceptable plan - hide the gift basket in the car, pick his mom up from the airport, and take her to lunch somewhere really nice. Jack is very proud.

"Call me if she wants to talk to a grown up," he adds.

"Fuck off," Noah says, laughing.

"And if you disappear on me again, I'll sick Zach on you."

"Nooo! Not the Werenski puppy eyes!"

"Dude," Jack says, "you've been withholding cute shit 'cause you were busy playing house. You're going to get the puppy eyes for at least a month." 

Zach believes in love with every fibre of his being. He believes in love more than he believes in the hockey gods. He's going to be sad Noah didn't hit him up for decorating tips, to feather his love nest, even though Zach's idea of romance is stealing sweaty undershirts.

(It's still debatable whether he wanted to smell like Larks - ew - or just wanted Larks to walk around nips-out. Either way, he doesn't exactly have a second career lined up.)

"I've been busy!" Noah protests. "We had to find a place, and move all our stuff, and catch up on baby shit-"

"Right, because he took his sweet fucking time telling you," Jack cuts in. "When is he due? Like, next week?"

"March," Noah corrects.

"And he didn't tell you until November. So you've had two months to wrap your head around seven months of stuff; I get it." Jack does not, actually, get it. It makes no fucking sense that Noah and Charlie are supposed to be crazy about each other, and then Charlie went and ghosted him, and now they're all cosy. It gives Jack a headache.

"I should go," Noah says abruptly. "It's my turn to make dinner. Thanks for the pep talk, Eichs." He hangs up before Jack can say anything else.

"Rude," Jack says to his phone. Noah's been so touchy ever since he started getting laid on the reg. It's confusing; Jack figured it would make him more relaxed.

Jack shrugs, and goes downstairs to see what's for dinner. Sam had better not be making KD again. Four times in one week is enough, thanks.

He pauses in the doorway, and texts Noah to advise him against making KD for Charlie, too. _ur kid will be orange_.

Noah sends back a middle finger emoji, so Jack figures they're all good.


	3. Love at first sight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who in their right mind has a baby on St. Patrick's Day?

Noah and Charlie are fucking morons. It’s the only explanation that makes sense. Why else would two guys from Boston choose St Patrick’s Day for their kid’s birthday?

Jack is too drunk for this.

His team actually won a game for once, so he deserves it. An ugly win, sure, after a garbage goal and a ten round shootout, but a win after a six-game losing streak is a fucking win.

O’Reilly is the man of the hour, because his skate blade was responsible for the garbage goal and he scored in the shootout. Not because his name is O’Reilly and they’re all in a bar on St Patrick’s Day.

Point is, Jack should be at the bar with his team, doing shots and putting on a terrible accent and asking O’Reilly if the luck of the Irish was with him. Instead he’s tucked into the corner of a booth, nursing his beer and scrolling through a hundred photos of the same thing - a scrunchy-faced bald baby who looks annoyed at the camera - and liking every single one.

Stromer starts blowing up the draft chat with sad faces, because he was in Raleigh three days ago. _you guys need to plan better_ , he complains.

Jack could not agree more. Everyone in the entire world had tonight off except Jack, so they all got to see Baby Boy Hanifin-Coyle hours before him. It's incredibly rude, and Jack intends to have words with Noah once he's come down from the endorphin high of newborn cuddles.

Chucky starts drunk texting the NTDP chat, because he's singlehandedly trying to turn Calgary into the city that never sleeps. Auston, Zach, and Larks seem to be happy to tag-team wrangle that mess, though, so Jack ignores him in favor of texting Noah back to tell him that he has baby puke on his shoulder in the latest pics. He looks disgustingly happy, and Jack only wonders briefly who the hell Noah convinced to record this special moment at two in the morning. Coyle just had major surgery, for fuck's sake. He'd better be sleeping it off, and Noah had better be letting him.

"What's with the face?" Sam asks, sitting down across from him at the booth. "Did you forget we won?"

Jack glares at him, and pulls up a picture of Baby Boy clutching someone's thumb. "My friends refuse to have the courtesy to have ugly babies.”

Sam snorts, but then he glances down at Jack's screen. "Okay, that's pretty fucking cute."

"Who the fuck has a baby on St. Patrick's Day?" Jack complains. "Everyone we know is drunk and key-smashing." Right on cue, Jack's phone lights up with another notification. It's a blurry snap from Auston, of half of someone's blond head. Jack texts Rielly, to warn him to take his boy's phone away.

"Hey," Sam says, "you don't have to be old and boring just because your friends are. Come on, there's someone you should meet." He looks back over to the bar, and when Jack follows his glance a guy waves at him.

"Sam. No."

“I’m not saying you should marry him!” Sam protests.

"Good, because I don't want to marry anyone!" Jack slams his fist down on the table, and his beer sloshes over.

Sam gives him the same sad eyes he used last time Jack tried to explain. "Dude, being gay doesn't mean you don't deserve to be happy."

Jack stares at him for a full minute. "You seriously think I don't know that? Last summer I went to a gay wedding, for fuck's sake!"

"I know, but..." Sam takes a deep breath and looks Jack in the eye. "You can tell me anything. Like, I know you started acting weird when I got together with Emily." He shrugs, tilting his head as he waits for an answer.

Jack's brain lights up like a goal siren. "Oh my god, you think I'm in love with you." He cracks up laughing, almost dropping his phone into the beer puddle on the table.

"Hey!" Sam scowls at him, as offended as a cat after you dare to pet them.

Jack flaps a hand at him. "Sorry, I just... No, dude. No way. I'm not in love with anyone; that's the whole fucking point." He thinks about googling _How to explain being aromantic to your idiot friend_ and just showing Sam the results, but it seems mean. At least Sam is trying, sort of.

"I don't want to date anyone. Ever. And honestly, I wouldn't even miss the sex; jerking off is just as good and I don't hurt anyone's feelings."

"Excuse you, sex is awesome!" Sam replies.

Jack can't help cracking up again. "Are you going to, like, give me a whole speech about the joys of sex?"

Sam turns bright red and goes to stand up. "I was going to get you another beer, but you don't deserve it." 

"Oh Sam, light of my life, don't leave me!" Jack teases.

"Fuck off," Sam replies, but he starts laughing too. "I've been trying to figure out how to let you down easy."

Jack clutches a hand to his chest. "Heartbreaker."

"You'll get over it." Sam leans over the table and musses Jack's hair before making a run for it.

"You're dead, Reinhart!" Jack yells after him.

“See? You’re over it already!” Sam yells back, just as he collides with Matt and spills two pitchers of beer on himself. Matt gives him Dad face, and Sam heads straight for the bar to get replacements.

Life is pretty good, from Jack's point of view, even if he's stuck on a team of lemmings that keep trying to run off a cliff. "Yo Matty! Want to see an adorable baby?"

"If it's not yours, then sure," Matt chirps. "Wouldn't want anyone to think I failed at giving my rookie The Talk." 

He's such a dad, and he makes it seem so effortless. One day, when Jack has his own disgruntled baby to take care of, he knows exactly who he'll call.

"I solemnly swear not to knock anyone up by accident," Jack promises. "Or let myself get knocked up. Now check out these idiots."

 

(Jack wishes he could say he's surprised when Noah wakes him up by calling at the crack of dawn, but he's too hungover to do anything but grunt. Yes, Noah, babies need a name. Yes, you have to fill out the birth certificate all the way. No, he's not surprised the hospital won't release them until they come up with something other than Baby Boy.)

**Author's Note:**

> follow us on tumblr! [ariadne83](http://ariadne83.tumblr.com) and [somehowunbroken](http://somehowunbroken.tumblr.com).
> 
> ki's note: this is, by our count, the sixth hockey RPF mpreg we have started together. sixth. this one, unlike the World Juniors Mpreg of Doom, was short and sweet. (that one will see the light of day at some point, but as of this moment it's nearly 70k and not nearly finished, so. might be a while. WHOOPS.)
> 
> ari's note: This is not any of the fics we promised/teased. But I CAN TOO write a short story.


End file.
